"So, you're seeing somebody new, then?"
Harry was taken aback by the question. He glanced over at his friends, wondering if they'd put Ginny up to this.
"No. Well, maybe, yes," he conceded. "It's casual, though."
"Oh, casual. I see."
Ginny was nodding as if agreeing to a very intelligent argument he had made, which was obviously not the case. He was not in the mood to be teased.
"Yeah, what's the problem with that?"
"None, what makes you think I've got a problem with that?"
"Well, perfect then."
"Hermione and Ron thought so as well."
Feeling vindicated for his paranoia, he called for them from the other side of the Weasley family room.
"You were right, he's seeing someone. It's casual, though," Ginny said as soon as they sat down by her side, stressing the word casual.
"Oh my god, Gin, you couldn't keep a secret to save your life."
"So I was supposed to keep it a secret from Harry that Harry's finally moved on from Shaun, after going on a three month old binge drinking session?"
"Oh, I wasn't aware that that's what I've been doing, thanks."
Normally he would have not minded this at all, but for some reason he was feeling very irritable. Hermione, who was always quicker to read his moods, intervened.
"Calm down, it wasn't a secret, we just told Gin we thought you're seeing someone new."
"So, who is it?" Ron asked, himself blissfully unaware of anybody's mood.
Harry realized just how much he'd dreaded this moment. So far, he'd simply omitted to mention Draco, but the moment had come when he had to make a choice: lie or tell the truth? The choice was made so much harder by the fact that it was perfectly mirrored by his own feelings towards the whole situation. After their first time, when he woke up next to Draco Malfoy and realized what he'd done the night before, he ran away from his own house like a criminal fleeing a crime scene, swearing to quit drinking forever. But then, he carried on seeing him - even worse, he was the one who initiated it every time - as if driven by some unknown, untameable force. And Draco, he had been - well, not who he used to be. Sometimes, it was easy to forget that the man he was sleeping with was the same mean spirited, arrogant and cruel boy he'd known at school. But not always.
"Malfoy," he said with a sigh. But he instantly knew he'd made the right choice, because his irritability was miraculously gone. "I've been sleeping with Malfoy - I mean, Draco. I call him Draco now, obviously."
Ron opened his mouth and appeared to never want to close it again. Ginny started laughing. At least Hermione didn't seem that phased, which made sense.
"So he calls you Harry, then?"
"Gin!"
"No, it's OK. I'm ready for all you've got."
And as he said it, he realized it was maybe not true.
"You can't possibly be serious."
"Yes, I am. It just happened, and that's all I'm going to say about it. So we can talk about something else now."
"If you think we're ever going to be talking about something else", said Ron while pouring himself and Harry a glass of gin, "you my friend are very, very wrong. What do you mean, it just happened? Is he even gay?"
"Of course he's gay!"
"Oh my god, that makes so much sense," Ginny exclaimed.
"It does, actually", Ron agreed.
"Did you say the same thing about me when I came out?" Harry asked grumpily, but feeling pretty relieved all things considered.
"Yes!" Ron and Ginny said in one voice.
"So, how did this start?" Hermione looked as if she was trying very hard not to laugh as much as the other two. "I mean, it's not like you bumped into him at a work party, which is, after all, your speciality?"
"It's really all cards on the table with you tonight, isn't it?" Harry said, pretending he was more annoyed than he was in reality.
"Just tell us, Harry!"
"No way! I'm not telling you bunch anything, go live vicariously through someone else!"
Ginny had been with Trey, who was somewhere in the house helping Ginny's father set up an internet connection, for four years now. That made Harry the only one of the group with an interesting dating life, though he'd much rather refer to it as disastrous instead.
"Oh, please tell us, Harry! Please, please, please?"
"There's nothing to tell! It's very casual!"
But this made them laugh even harder.
"Yeah, because you've always been very casual, especially about Malfoy - oh, should we call him Draco now too?"
"I swear to God, Ginny, I'm going to hex you!"
"But isn't it… weird?" Ron asked, having transitioned to a more philosophical mood.
Harry took a moment to consider the question as serious as he could.
"It's very weird." It felt so good to finally talk about it, he forgot he didn't mean to share anything else. "He's very… uhm… you know, he doesn't even get wizarding mail… I don't think he knows who's Minister of Magic."
"I mean, that's understandable, isn't it?" asked Ron. "After what happened on Diagon Alley…"
"Yes," continued Hermione, "which is why I always said his sentence was very unfair. I mean, what did they think would happen after slandering him through the papers for a whole year, then putting him back on the street without his magical powers?"
"He was so lucky Nev was there," added Ron.
Harry barely remembered what the papers had said about Malfoy back then, but he remembered vividly the day he had been attacked in the middle of the day by a group of half-blood and muggle-born wizards that had lost family members during the war. Nobody had intervened except for Neville, who happened to be walking by. He managed to get the wizards off him and Apparate him to St. Mungo's before it was too late.
"Yes, well. That was a long time ago. People forget," Ginny said unconvincingly.
"But how do you feel about all of this, Harry?"
Still lost in memories of five years ago, Harry was blindsided by the question.
"About what?"
"About how the ministry judged him as a minor, but gave him such a harsh sentence, unheard of in a court of law - "
Hermione was in the last year of a magical law degree.
"I don't know," Harry said while taking a sip from his glass, "I try not to think about all the bad things that happened to us - to all us as - when we were young."
"Harry's right, enough with this! Let's go save Trey from my father, poor guy..."
And so they spent the rest of the night laughing and joking, eventually about other subjects, and Harry went home very happy with himself for having come clean, feeling as if he'd reached a conclusion about Draco and would now never have to think about it again. His resolve was, however, short lived.
Next day he spent the night at Draco's. He arrived at his place around 12 o'clock, directly from a party celebrating the Holyhead Harpies' last victory, and found Draco on the bed, reading. Without even as much as hello, he crawled on top of him, throwing Draco's book out of the way.
"You're such an asshole, you could have let me save my page," Draco said while Harry started kissing his neck, "and take off your shoes."
But when he saw Harry had no plan of doing that, he wrestled him until he was on top, then started taking off his shoes. Harry let him. He just looked at him, admiring his features, then reached out and touched the curve of his cheek. Draco kissed his hand absentmindedly while throwing one of Harry's shoes away.
"You're so beautiful", Harry said slowly, stressing every word.
He said that a lot to him, mostly because he never could get used to how beautiful he was. It was probably the only thing that never changed throughout the years.
"You're always drunk, aren't you? What kind of a life are you living, Harry?"
But Harry just laughed and traced Draco's lips with his finger, hearing - as he often did - the tenderness behind the words.
"Come here", Draco said and kissed him deeply, having finally finished taking off his shoes. He liked it so much, feeling Draco next to him, smelling him, touching his skin, his hair, his whole body. He thought about it all the time. Then Draco turned him around gently, and soon Harry's mind went blank, which was exactly how he liked it. He let himself be kissed, and touched, and held, until he fell asleep.
Draco's alarm woke them both up at half past six. Harry hadn't intended to sleep over. He felt sick and his head was heavy from all the alcohol he had ingested. He watched as Draco got out of bed, a sinking feeling in his stomach as he got a glimpse of the Dark Mark glowing faintly in the morning light. It was funny how he only seemed to notice it in the mornings.
"You can sleep in if you want," he said when he noticed Harry getting out of bed as well.
"No, no, I'm going," Harry replied, reaching for his pants on the floor. "I'll let you get ready for work."
"I'm going to university, the bookstore opens at ten..."
"Well, ready for university then."
And he Disapparated. Back home, he went straight to bed but he couldn't fall back asleep. The sinking feeling was not going away, and neither was his headache. He shouldn't have slept over. Two hours later, feeling just as miserable and without having slept even a minute more, he took a shower and got ready for work. He didn't call Draco for another five or six days, but ended up caving, like every time.
He'd been at the office for around 20 minutes, a couple of weeks later, when Ron walked in, coffee mug in hand.
"Are you aware there's a bloody army of reporters downstairs?"
"Huh? No, what are they doing there?"
"Well, according to Miranda from Witch Weekly, they've been tipped off that Malfoy has a meeting today with the Parole Board."
It took Harry a couple of seconds to process that whole sentence.
"What? Draco's here? At the Ministry?"
"Are you asking me? I don't know, I just told you what Miranda told me!"
But Harry was already halfway to the door. He cursed the old lifts as he waited impatiently for one to arrive, then cursed them again when they stopped at each level, until he reached the atrium. At the end, towards the visitors entranced, he spotted the huge crowd of reporters Ron had described. Anxious for reasons yet unexplored, he marched towards them just as Draco was trying to escape their midst, flanked by what appeared to be his lawyer. The Ministry guards were struggling to control the crowd and keep it contained to the press zone, from which numerous voices could be heard:
"Malfoy, where have you been hiding all this time?"
"Are you scared to show your face again, after all this time?"
"OK, everybody, why don't we let them pass, shall we?" he said as loud as he could, all while making his way through the crowd in order to make a passage for Draco and his lawyer. Everybody turned to him instantly.
"Harry Potter!"
"Mister Potter, what do you think about this?"
"Harry Potter, is Draco Malfoy here because he violated his parole?"
But Harry just waited long enough for Draco and his lawyer to come into the atrium and then turned his back to the reporters, who could not follow them anymore. Without even as much as a glance at him, Draco started heading directly towards the visitors' lifts. It felt surreal to Harry, seeing him there.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" he asked Draco while struggling to keep up with him, angry and anxious at the same time.
"Please, just go!" said Draco through barred teeth. "People are staring."
Before Harry could answer, his lawyer intervened.
"I assure you, mister Potter, that my client is well within his rights to demand a Parole meeting; we've taken all the necessary legal steps, and we are here in total and complete legality- "
Harry cut him off. People were indeed staring at them, and Harry really felt the need to not be stared at at that moment.
"OK, OK, who is this meeting with?"
"With Mister Cohen, on the…"
"Third floor. I'll take you there. Come, we'll take the personnel lift."
"Oh, thank you very much, mister Potter!"
Draco had no option but to turn back and follow them through the hidden corridor. Once nobody could hear them anymore, Harry erupted:
"What the fuck, Draco? What are you doing here?"
They stopped in front of the lift. Now that they weren't moving anymore, Harry could see Draco appeared to be ever so slightly shaking. He felt the urge to hold him, but repressed it, and instead asked the same question on a calmer tone.
"What are you doing here, Draco?"
But this didn't seem to help with Draco's spirits, because, in a voice that reminded Harry of the boy he used to be, he schreething at him:
"I think my lawyer just told you, I have a meeting! What are you doing here?"
"I came to help you, Draco, what did it look like? Why didn't you tell me you were coming to the Ministry?"
"I didn't know one had to ask you personally to come to the Ministry of Magic!"
"Don't be obtuse!"
"Mister Malfoy, let's calm down, mister Potter is only trying to help…"
Draco looked as if he wanted to punch his own lawyer, but before further developpement could take place the lift arrived. Harry passed his wand over the buttons and pressed number 3, feeling as if he was missing something important.
"When you finish, wait for me and I'll take you home through the back, OK?"
"Oh, that would be wonderful, mister Potter! I don't know if we would have even gotten inside without your help."
Harry was starting to be sick of this lawyer.
"Did you hear me, Draco?"
But Draco was refusing to look at him, studying his own watch instead.
Once on the third floor, Harry led them to Cohen's office where, in full view of Draco, he asked Cohen's secretary to send him a message when the meeting would be over, then turned around and went back into the lift. Back in his office, he tried to make sense of the feelings he'd endured since that morning but nothing of fruition came from that exercise. He went into Ron's office.
"So?"
"So, yes, he's here. He has a meeting with Cohen."
"Are you alright, Harry?"
Harry looked at Ron.
"No, I got very scared just now. I got really scared something was going to happen to him."
Ron considered Harry carefully.
"I think that's pretty normal, Harry. I'm sure you would have felt the same about me, or Hermione, or Gin, if we were in the same situation."
"Yes, but- "
He wanted to say yes, but it's Malfoy but stopped because he was aware of how ridiculous it would have been to say it when it was him who started sleeping with Draco in the first place.
"It's OK, I need to go."
Ron looked as if he would have loved to help, but had no idea in the world how.
He spent the next hour writing reports he had put off for months, until the message came through. He rushed out of his office before the note had burst into flames.
They Apparated in Draco's apartment from the Apparition room of the Auror's department, and Draco collapsed on the bed, burying his face in his hands.
"And that's how you could have also gotten there, had you asked me!"
Draco removed his hands from his face to look at him incredulously, as if he had said something outrageous.
"And how was I supposed to know that exactly, Harry?"
"Know what?"
"That you basically run the Ministry now and can bring people in and out, as you please?"
"Huh? You know I'm an Auror! I'm not running - "
"No, I know you were one five years ago, but that's besides the point!"
"What the fuck does that mean?"
This conversation was starting to remind Harry of another very, very unpleasant exchange. Waving that thought away, he carried on to the most pressing question.
"Why did you need to see the Parole Board? Are you in trouble?"
As soon as he said it, Harry realized two things at same time: just how much he needed to be reassured, to be told everything is alright, and what his question must have sounded like to Draco. Which he could immediately confirm by watching the anger melt away from Draco's face and transform into something much harder to interpret.
"Oh."
"No, I - "
But Draco got up from the bed and went to wash his hands in the sink, for seemingly no reason at all. Harry noticed the bottle of wine he'd brought last time, still by the sink, and felt a very powerful urge to go steal a time turner so he could go back in time to that night.
"I understand. It must have been something I did."
"That's not what I meant- "
"That's OK, I understand."
Draco had turned off the faucet but kept staring at his hands.
"I didn't mean that kind of trouble, Draco, calm down."
That seemed to snap him out of it, because he immediately turned to Harry, angry once again.
"Don't you tell me to calm down, Harry, when you've been screaming at me since this morning."
Harry found this - their first fight - so weird, so different from all the other fights he'd had with him, and the weirdest thing was just much Draco wasn't using his usual wit to hide behind. It made his appear vulnerable, which made Harry feel vulnerable.
"I'm just trying to understand, OK? I saw you two days ago, why didn't you tell me you had a meeting with the Parole Board? I just think it -"
"I don't know, Harry, you just didn't really strike me as a guy who'd care."
Harry didn't know what to say to that, other that he did care. But somehow, it was very hard for him to say that. Suddenly, it dawned on his just how small and claustrophobic Draco's place was, and how much he wanted to be anywhere else. But Draco kept going:
"And just so know, I'm not in any trouble. I just requested permission to leave the country."
Draco took out a piece of parchment from his pocket and shoved it into Harry's hand. Harry's mind went blank, but in a very different way than before.
"Leave the country? Where are you going?"
"To France."
"On holiday?"
Harry knew he most likely couldn't afford to go on holiday, but for some obscure reason that had been the only thought to cross his mind: it must be for a holiday. Draco opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again, disgust clearly visible on his face.
"Where are you going, then?" Harry asked exasperatedly, looking at the paper in his hand but not understanding anything except for the words Paris, France.
"I'm going to do a potions apprenticeship in Paris."
"Ah!" Harry was taken by surprise, kind of like that night he'd followed him thinking he'd find out something wild about Draco, just to see him going to the library. "I didn't know you were still into…er… potions."
Draco just stared at him.
"What did you think I was studying chemistry for, Harry? To learn how to make bombs, maybe?"
Harry took a step backwards, in an attempt to put some distance between him and Draco's insinuations, only to bump into Draco's desk and make a bunch of folders fall down. While bending down to grab them, he remembered Ron's words from months ago and mumbled, unconvincingly:
"I … I didn't - Because you wanted to be a chemist?"
Meanwhile, Draco had positioned himself in front of the window and was pinching the top of his neck, eyes closed in concentration, or annoyance, or whatever feeling he was feeling - Harry couldn't tell.
"Ok. You know what, it doesn't matter. Look - I'm sorry, ok? I should have realized you'd find out about it and assume the worst, so I'm sorry I didn't let you know in advance."
"It's OK, it's nothing, really," he said weakly, disarmed by the apology and the implications it carried.
And then, because neither of them was saying anything, Draco asked:
"So, are you staying or - ?"
"Uhm, no. I'd better get back to the office."
"OK, then."
Back in his office, he locked the door with a silent spell and started walking back and forth, unable to calm down, unable to understand what was happening to him. He ended up having to go home and take a calming potion. That night he dreamed of Paris, a city he'd never been to.